


i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight

by WeekendWriter



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Actual Romantic John Seed, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, dinner and dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 04:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeekendWriter/pseuds/WeekendWriter
Summary: Under a ceasefire, Rook agreed to meet John Seed at his ranch to talk. The dinner and dancing wasn’t really part of the plan, but then again, when had Rook ever stuck to the plan?





	i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight

It was the absolute absurdity of the offer that had driven Rook to this point, to standing on his doorstep with a hand raised in hesitation to call on the Baptist. Sit down, and we talk. As simply and plainly said as the ink on his arm. 

_What, just the two of us?_

She’d arrived to a ghostly and empty property and as she finally rapped her knuckles on the front door, it swung open to reveal the absence of guards on the inside, too. 

_Just the two of us, my dear._

“Deputy.” John’s tone was warm for someone who’d once held a knife sharpener to her throat. “Please, come in.”

Maybe the ludicrousness was what took away her unease as she crossed the threshold of her enemy. It couldn’t have been simply his words, spoken lowly over the waves of the radio as though afraid that even then, they could be heard by others. No more tricks, no more games. 

Maybe it was the grudging acceptance on both parts that the two of them were too smart for a ruse on either end. She would never listen to the cunning young Seed with an affinity for lies and he would never let his guard down around the lethal deputy so willing to give her dedication to the cause she deemed most just.

Rook turned wordlessly back to him in the foyer. The house was as magnificent on the inside as it was on the outside; the wooden banister that twisted its way up the stairs was orate in its carvings, though the taxidermy that littered the walls didn’t mirror that delicate architecture. Rook took it all in in an attempt to learn as much as she could about the man she was to speak with. 

Beside her, John tsked in disapproval. “No cheating, Deputy. Put away the keen observational senses for the night. After all, that’s not why we’re here.”

_Not the Deputy, not the Baptist: just two people._

“Fine.” Rook rearranged her features into something she hoped was less disarming. “Wonderful home you have here. You must have had a fight on your hands to get this over other perspective buyers.”

John hid his badly-disguised glee by taking her jacket from her to hang in a closet. “Indeed I did. It wasn’t long after we arrived from Georgia that I decided I would try for this place. The previous owners were reluctant to leave, as anyone would be, but eventually, they agreed to sell. Montana, for all its beauty, really does get a little cold for those seeking retirement.”

She’d expected some tale of grandeur, of a scam or a literal battle to force the previous occupants from their home, but his eyes held nothing but honesty for his words. Rook allowed herself to be led through the living room, past the game on the walls that she hoped didn’t come from their upcoming dinner, and into the kitchen. 

“What do you like best about Montana so far?”

The question startled her, and for a moment, all Rook could see were the flashes of pain and blood on the landscape she’d barely gotten to know. Old anger resurfaced but she forced it down as she reminded herself that she’d agreed to try this civilly. 

_Try._

“The sky,” she finally replied. “I’ve never seen such a dynamic sky.”

John’s face lit up at her response. 

They dissolved into idle chatter as he began to pull fresh food from the fridge. He was going to cook, she realized with a shock, and the domesticity of the situation took her breath away. This time, as John wielded a knife, it was to dice off the stringy ends of green beans as she punctuated a story with a wave of a spoon she was supposed to be using to stir rice. John later blamed the clumps of rice that stuck to their plates on the tale of catching the Admiral, though the mirth in his eyes told her that his bitching was in good humor. 

He left out the darkness of his past but regaled her with the struggles of First Year Law Student John Duncan, including the one time he’d accidentally brought porn magazines to the courthouse courtesy of his meddling roommates. The embarrassed squeal Rook gave when laughed hard enough to snort water from her nose was more than worth the embarrassment of the story, so much so that he continued with a few more. 

The intensity of the mask John Seed had built faded through the honesty of the stories, and Rook could see clearly why so many of the cult followed him without question when he was just John. The way he painted stories with words so easily that Rook could practically see the beaming youngster that first set his eyes on the prestigious halls of law school proved to her that he was good at his craft. 

The few not-so-subtle stories he told of his magnificent wins were easily offset by the tales he was eager to pull from her. They kept to safe topics and avoided the current climate for obvious reasons, though delighting each other with stories from the past took up more than enough time. 

All too soon, John stood and cleared the plates from the table. Rook sat back in her chair, unsure of how they would proceed now. But she needn’t have worried; as John rounded the counter and returned to the table, he placed a glass of wine in her hands. 

She cocked one brow at him to which he simply shrugged. 

“You dance, Deputy?” John gripped her hand gently and spun her into the living room, careful not to spill even a drop of her wine.

“Not in a long time.” Rook allowed herself to be swept up in his strong arms as they swayed to some unheard music. For a second, she could’ve sworn she could still hear the echo of the song that had crackled from old speakers and echoed across metal walls. 

“Allow me then.” They stepped in tune, a synchronized dance of two unlikely partners. “You move marvelously, my dear.

With a grin, Rook placed their glasses on the coffee table. John responded immediately by pulling her back in close.

“You know,” he started with a grin of his own, “this reminds me of the dance lessons I took as a kid. Though my first partner was far less pretty than you.”

“I could say the same of you.” Rook laughed at his affronted expression. “Though I’m betting I could teach you a thing or two about dancing, Seed.”

To the point, John swung her out before snapping her back into a spectacular dip. “Not so sure about that. But maybe time will tell.”

At the mention of time, Rook’s mind fell back into the pit of restlessness for the first time that night. This had been… far beyond her expectations for both John and for a night like this. The genuine him, free of the whirling hurricane that was Hope County and his family, had been worth getting to know.

Not more than a few inches from her own face, John’s expression contorted in thought. His impossibly blue eyes searched hers. “Could you be happy here with me?” John finally murmured.

Rook thought about it. 

She really did. 

The blur of the night flashed before her eyes once more. Without the stress of all of it – without the pressures of the county looming over them, without the horrors of their pasts gaining on their heels – they were two people more alike than they could have ever imagined. In the absence of it, he became more, and so did she. 

So she met his expectant gaze honestly. “Yes, John.”

At the glow of happiness John exuded, Rook guessed she was seeing a rare glimpse of the child Joseph had spoken of. All the same, Rook reached slowly around her back. 

And wrapped her fingers around the knife she’d kept hidden there.


End file.
